


Backmasking

by Foggy_Dayyy



Series: Undertale drabbles [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Drabble, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Oneshot, an all around bad time (tm)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 10:28:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7264282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foggy_Dayyy/pseuds/Foggy_Dayyy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Papyrus isn't a child anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Backmasking

**Author's Note:**

> Backmasking
> 
> n. the instinctive tendency to see someone as you knew them in their youth, a burned-in image of grass-stained knees, graffitied backpacks or handfuls of birthday cake superimposed on an adult with a degree, an illusion formed when someone opens the door to your emotional darkroom while the memory is still developing.

Papyrus isn't a child anymore.

The realization hits you one day, sharp and sudden. Papyrus is an _adult_ , he has a _job_ and his own _house, aspirations_. He's supporting himself, he's supporting _you_.

He doesn't rely on you like he used to, back when you had three jobs, back when you scrounged anywhere you could for work (not a lot of people would hire a 14 year old.) He doesn't need to, he's an adult.

You rely on him now, something _desperate_ and _clingy_ , groping for a purpose like you had years ago. There's something wrong with you, you've realized, something _missing_ or _broken_ or just _dysfunctional_.

When you look at Papyrus all you can see is the little eight year old who cried into your shoulder after school, blubbering about how _nobody likes him, what's wrong with me, Sans?_ weeping and shaking with his tiny fists clinging to your shirt. When you look at Papyrus all you can see is a child, bright and earnest, innocent and idealistic, playing tag with other tiny children, looking over at you and asking _why don't you ever play with your friends, Sans?_ When you look at Papyrus all you see is his childhood, spent _blissfully_ unaware, protected, shielded.

He's not a child anymore, and you don't know how to grasp that. You're not sure when it happened, when he stopped asking you about bedtime stories and how the world works and started asking you about your LV and HP and _will you be okay if I leave you alone, Sans?_

There's something wrong with you, something horribly, _horribly_ wrong, and you can't pin it down to fix it, you can't force it back for Papyrus's sake because _Papyrus doesn't need you anymore_ , so it all comes out in ugly droves, breakdowns you've held back over the years snowballed into something _so much bigger than it would've been._

You rely on Papyrus now, _heavily_. It hurts him, it grates like sandpaper, slowly wearing him thin. You hurt him, and you don't want to, and you're _so sorry paps, so sorry_ but that's how you know this is something you can't fix.

Papyrus is an adult now, an adult shouldering the pain of watching his brother systematically destroy himself. Papyrus isn't a child, Papyrus is an _amazing, strong adult_ and you can't quite believe that.

You're not sure when it happened, but it's painfully obvious when he's rubbing your back and whispering _it's okay, I'm here, you're alright,_ a meaningless mantra, holding on to you like you'll slip away if he doesn't.

It's painfully obvious when he's gently prying a bottle from your hand, eyes filled with _pity_ and _disappointment_ and _grief_ , apologies spewing from your mouth, meaning lost because if you were really sorry you'd stop this, if you were really sorry you'd get your shit together. If you were really sorry you'd at least _try_.

It's painfully obvious when he's telling you it's okay to have bad days sometimes, there's always tomorrow, even though _every_ day is a bad day and he knows it as well as you do.

You don't want to rely on Papyrus, so small and so optimistic, full of beautiful ideals and endless opportunity. The thing is you _don't_ rely on Papyrus, not that Papyrus, at least.

The Papyrus you rely on is an _adult_ , an adult with a _job_ , an adult with _a brother who can't live on his own_ , and adult who knows how the world works and takes it all in strides.

The Papyrus you rely on always puts you first, always knows what you can and can't do, always knows when you can't be left alone. The Papyrus you rely on puts so much aside for you and tries to hide that fact, like you don't hear his _Sans isn't feeling well tonight, I'll be there next time_ , like you don't know you're messed up and utterly _reliant_.

You wonder if this is how he felt, years and years ago, when you put aside your life for him, threw your dreams out the window and buried them under obligation. You think he feels guilty about it sometimes, about your childhood spent ensuring he had what you didn't. You want to believe he doesn't know how much you sacrificed, but you know he's well aware.

"why do you stick around?"

"I LOVE YOU, SANS. IS THAT NOT ENOUGH?"

You didn't respond.

"YOU DIDN'T ABANDON ME WHEN I NEEDED YOU."

"this is different. you're... you were a child, you deserved better. i'm _thirty two,_ i should have my own house and a job and... something..."

Silence.

"you can kick me out if you want, you know. i'll leave. i know you don't... i know i hold you back a lot."

"I DON'T WANT TO KICK YOU OUT. YOU HAVE NOWHERE ELSE TO GO."

You feel a shiver crawl up your spine. He's right. That doesn't stop you from pretending he isn't.

"nah, i know plenty of people i could stay with for a bit."

Papyrus scrutinizes you for a few seconds, like he's sizing you up and deciding if it's worth it to call you out on your lie.

"SINCE WE'RE HAVING THIS DISCUSSION NOW," he begins, a heaviness in his voice that makes your chest ache.

"I HATE HOW EASILY YOU LIE TO ME."

You flinch. This has to be a dream.

You let your eyes flit over to the front door. The laugh you force out sounds nothing like what laughing is supposed to sound like.

"don't mean to sound like a broken record, but if you want me to lea-"

"STOP. JUST... STOP."

Papyrus isn't a child anymore, but you wish he was. God, you wish you had such a big, important reason to get out of bed in the morning. You wish you could continue to be strong, for Papyrus, but _Papyrus isn't a child anymore, and you don't, for the life of you, know how to deal with that._

**Author's Note:**

> I really liked writing this even though it's gross and kind of out of character. I really need to work on my Papyrus. 
> 
> This was inspired by an entry from the [dictionary of obscure sorrows](http://www.dictionaryofobscuresorrows.com)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! Thank you in advance for any kudos, comments, or bookmarks. They always make my day <33!!
> 
>  
> 
> [The blog where I talk about things](http://constantine-blogs.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> [The awful meme blog](http://foggy-dayyy.tumblr.com)


End file.
